


Haha Angst Go Brrrr

by onepercentmilk (orphan_account), Tidalwolf, twopercentmilk (orphan_account)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Violence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Me? Projecting? Yes, Only sometimes tho, Pain, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, a n g s t, but still, f in the chat amirite, it's just, my weak heart hates to see the "hurt no comfort" tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/onepercentmilk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tidalwolf/pseuds/Tidalwolf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/twopercentmilk
Summary: Me? Projecting on block men? More likely than you think.I had to cut this in half bc it was taking a while to write and I forgot this, so ao3 was going to delete it so I have to get it out now.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson & TommyInnit, Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Just a whole bunch of friends, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	Haha Angst Go Brrrr

Technoblade is familiar with scars. He's all _too_ familiar with them.

* * *

He saw Wilbur's scars is at 11:01 PM on heavy winter night. It reminded him of his birth place, the Antarctic Empire. He'd gone out without his coat, and had been sitting in the snow when he saw a figure on the veranda near the house.

His immediate first response was to run. Run like he always has before. Run far, far away to protect himself from pain and hurt.

He's always hated that selfish part of him. Years of pushing it down, all to no avail. He shook his head, like a wet dog. Like he was trying to shake the feeling off.

After a moment's hesitation, Techno made the choice to walk over. His hand gripped the netherite axe by his side, and he made sure that his bow was loaded before quietly walking towards the veranda. Every footstep of his boots makes a _crunch_ in the snow and it felt all too loud. The figure, which he could now identify as the vague outline of a man, doesn't move.

His bow felt heavy in his hand. He began mapping an idea of his attack plan if it came to it in his head. Shoot that.. that _person_ a few times, then go in with the axe. He regretted not bringing his armor, but he'd manage. Nothing he couldn't deal with. The maps of scars on his body seemed to agree, some of them still aching and recent.

His boots, made of leather, are cold and clammy on the inside. The thin mesh did nothing to mask the cold. He internally cringed at the squelch that he made whenever he moved. That was going to be annoying to dry when he gets back inside.

The dark part in his mind whispered to him.

 _If_ he comes back.

He mustered that ugly, grotesque fear in him the best he could. No, Techno. You're not scared.

You can't be scared.

Still, he hesitated, waiting for the man to hear him. Surely he has. But he gave no sign of moving or hearing him. He briefly wondered if that man had died and if he was just frozen in place. It happened an awful lot back in the Empire. Sometimes he would go up to someone only to realize they'd died of frostbite and had frozen there. At peace. The memory calmed the urgent churning in his stomach, overwhelming his nerves with a deathly calm.

_Step._

The man doesn't move.

_Step._

Can he even hear Techno?

_Step._

Just one bit closer-

_Step._

The dim glow of the lanterns hardly makes it to the figure, but Techno can make out poofy hair tucked into a gray beanie. A beanie, huh. Wilbur wore beanies a lot. Something about hating the cold. And his favorite one was-

Oh.

That was Wilbur.

The panic and adrenaline in Techno's stomach faded away. It was just Wilbur on the porch.

Wilbur on a porch.

Wilbur, on a porch?

The pit of anxiety in his stomach clenched up again, this time heavier with suspicion. Wilbur absolutely despised the cold. It was the reason for the multitude of sweaters and jeans in his closet, as well as the uncountable beanies he kept buying.

In normal circumstance, he would never go out in this weather. He should be up in his room, picking at his guitar or whatever other things e-boys do in their free time. Maybe clanking around that old microphone. 

But, they were never under normal circumstance, were they?

Techno laughed under his breath, a sound foreign to his ears. He hadn't heard that for a long time, that was for certain. For a moment he just stood there, reminiscing in feelings that came from memories long forgotten. 

Forgetting, what an odd concept.

He forgot a lot of things, but he never forgot feelings. Sadness, anger, happiness. An almost sad smile came onto his face. He guessed the snow was doing something to him.

Another sound, this time one he was regrettably familiar with, snapped him out of that tiny haven he'd created with his happiness. 

It was a sob, sorrowful and broken. A sound that reminded Techno of shattered blades and salty tears, or pain and agony. Something like water, cold and drowning in sadness. The voice was one he knew. One he associated with warm crackling fires and love.

Wilbur's.

Something in Techno shifted. A twisting feeling in his gut, akin to jumping into a pit of ice water. Almost burning in how unforgivingly cold it was. Wilbur was crying. Crying in the snow, loud and unabashedly.

He'd only seen Wilbur cry once in his life.

It had been when he was still a child. Wilbur had been 10, he had been 8. They'd been venturing in the forest when they'd gotten lost. The sun had gone down, by that time, and they had to fend themselves from the onslaught of mobs. Techno doesn't remember much, just swinging his wooden sword again and again and again, never stopping and just thinking he _absolutely needed to defend Wilbur at all costs._

_"Techno, stay awake. STAY AWAKE TECHNO, DON'T FALL ASLEEP!" A young voice, fearful and shaking yelled at him. In his haze, Techno could vaguely connect the voice to a person. Wilbur. Wilbur was telling him to stay awake._

_His eyes felt heavy, drooping despite Wilbur shaking his shoulders frantically. Don't worry, he wanted to say. Don't worry. I'm fine._

_Something wet dropped on his cheek. He managed to force his eyes open. His hand, which felt almost detached from how tight it had held his sword, finally unclenched around the handle, reaching up to cup Wilbur's face, eyes red rimmed and cheeks flushed._

_Ah. He was crying._

_"It's okay." Techno had said._

_It's okay._

When he awoke later, both of them saved by Phil, Wilbur cried for a good half hour. He hadn't seen him cry since.

Snapping our of his musings, Techno quietly came to sit down beside Wilbur. He wasn't sure about how long he'd been standing there, reminiscing. Wilbur still hadn't noticed, too focused on whatever had caused his tears.

"Hey Wil.." he whispered. Wilbur looked at him, eyes tired. No longer was the young boy who smiled and sang and laughed. This was a war torn warrior, scarred with regrets and watching the ghosts only he could see. An almost hostile glare entered his glazed eyes, before they softened. 

  
"Oh. Hey Techno." His voice sounded tight and forced, like he didn't want to talk at all.

Technoblade sat there for a moment. What to say? He couldn't just inquire about it. This was his brother, broken down and shattered by horrors he couldn't fathom.

"You need anything?" Techno asked, his voice going a bit higher at the end with nerves. Damn it. This is what he settled for?

Wilbur turned to him, then looked away. His gaze locked onto something in the distance, something Techno could only describe as a thousand yard stare.

A broken chuckle. "Just... some old regrets..."

Techno brought his hand through his hair. He was never good at this... this feelings stuff. That was always Phil or Wilbur whenever someone got hurt. Not him.

"I-I guess... it's having perspective." He tried. He looked at his hands, trying to push back the cuticles, anything to not see Wilbur's eyes on him.

"Regrets... require a new perspective than your own. You need to see as an outsider and evaluate from there. If you keep on criticizing your old mistakes, you'll never move on. You just need to know that you did the best you could in that situation.." he trailed off, unsure of what else to say. There was truth in what he's said, Techno thought. A reflection of his own endeavors. The thought of loss still stung in his mind, and in the callouses that littered his palms.

He finally turned to look at Wilbur, almost scared to how he might react.

Wilbur looked shocked. His mouth formed an o, and Techno would've laughed had he not been scared out of his wits. But then, he smiled. A bittersweet smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Thank you, Techno."

The porch was empty the next night.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's our tumblr if you want it.
> 
> https://mcyt-sucky-au-writers.tumblr.com/
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :D!


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